


Need

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Light D/s, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, mating urges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry and Will solve each other's problems. With their penises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> For the Sanctuary porn battle's "Stuck in an Elevator" prompt.

Need  
by Mad Maudlin

The halls of the residential wing were quiet and still, and Will padded in his bare feet down to the elevator, shrugging on a hoodie over his t-shirt in deference to the chill. He wasn't sure what had awakened him, but when it became clear he wasn't going to get back to sleep quickly, he figured he might as well venture down to the kitchen for something in the warm-milk-and-chamomile-tea department. He blearily pushed the elevator's call button, and leaned his head against the wall until he heard the doors creak open.

"Hey!" Will blinked—Henry was standing in the back of the car, fully dressed and fidgeting. He cleared his throat as Will stepped in. "I mean hi! I mean, uh, what the hell are you doing here, dude? It's like three o'clock!"

"I know," Will mumbled. He jabbed at the buttons and slumped against the wall. "Believe me, I know."

"Oh." Henry's voice sounded—off, somehow. Hoarse. He wasn't really looking at Will, but all around the elevator in nervous flickers, and he kept rubbing his hands on the front of his pants. His color was high, as far as Will could tell in the dim light.

"Night surveillance?" Will guessed after a moment of awkward silence. Magnus had got hold of an enormous, greenish-gray egg that proved impervious to X-ray and MRI, and she had them watching it round-the-clock until it hatched; they were taking turns with the graveyard shifts, and Will's sleep cycle was still out of whack after his turn two nights before.

"Yeah," Henry, said, a moment too late to be natural.

Will rubbed his eyes. "Something up?"

He wasn't wearing his glasses or contacts, but there was no mistaking it—Henry jumped. "What?"

"Is something the matter?" Will asked more firmly, shaking the sleep off. "You seem kind of nervous."

"I'm, uh, I," Henry licked his lips. "I'm gonna talk to Magnus about it in the morning."

That set off a whole new set of warning bells in Will's head. Henry had insisted he was fine when he was actually turning into a werewolf—sorry, HAP—against his will for the first time in a couple of decades; if this was somehow worse... "Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"No!" Henry yelped, and in the least subtle gesture of the year, covered his crotch with both hands.

Will instantly averted his eyes, as much to protect Henry's dignity as his own embarrassment. "Okay," he said, trying for _calm, detached and professional_ and not quite hitting the mark. "Sorry for, uh, prying."

"It's fine," Henry said, and to Will's ear it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Will wondered, vaguely, how much longer before he'd be able to make an inelegant exit from the elevator and leave Henry to his little problem. (Or possibly a big problem—he tried not to speculate.) Then he realized that, even for an elevator as old as this one, they should've gotten down to kitchen level by now. He looked out the rounded portal and realized the car had slowed to a crawl. "Uh-oh," he said out loud, staring blankly at the bare back of the shaft.

Henry looked up, and his eyes widened comically. "Oh, fuck," he blurted, and immediately latched on to the panel with the buttons. "Not good, not good, not good--"

Before Will could ask what wasn't good, something squealed, and the car went into a heart-stopping free-fall for about a second and a half longer than it should've and an eternity longer than he'd ever wanted to experience first-hand. The stop was as bad at the fall; Will hit the floor, and Henry seemed to narrowly avoid joining him. "Very not good," Will agreed creakily.

 _"Fuck,"_ Henry said, which officially made this the most Will had ever heard him swear. He climbed to his feet and started back in on whatever he was doing in the machine panel; after a moment, he punctuated it with a slap at the wall, then a full, closed-fist punch.

Will pushed himself upright and said firmly, "Henry, it's okay."

"This is _not okay,"_ Henry said, and his voice broke a little. He made like he was going to punch the wall again, and Will tried to grab his arm before he fractured a knuckle; the next thing Will knew, he was flat on his back, Henry leaning over him, arm pinned to the ground. This close, he could see how dilated Henry's eyes were, and the raw spot on his lower lip where he'd been biting it, over and over again. There was a visible flutter in the hollow of his jaw from his hammering pulse, and his breath was hot and shallow on Will's face, nearly panting.

Henry recoiled just as quickly as he'd pounced, huddled into a corner with his knees to his chest. Will took a moment to pull himself together, and put together a couple of facts: the elevator had malfunctioned. They were most likely stuck in it, at least until someone came to rescue them, because Henry was good, but he wasn't MacGyver. It could be hours before they were found like this, and if Henry was already on the verge of some kind of breakdown those were going to be some very long hours.

Will sat up, careful not to get any closer to Henry's personal space than he had to. "Henry?"

"What." The answer was muffled by his folded arms, and mostly devoid of affect.

This had to be worded carefully. "What can I do to help you?" He wasn't sure what to do with his body language—normally he'd try to maintain eye contact, but Henry might see that as some kind of challenge in this state, at least subconsciously. He suddenly wished he'd had more time in Oldham to go over the finer points of HAP psychology with Erica.

Henry gave a sort of wheezing snort that might've been interpretable as a laugh. "No offense, dude, but this is not a conversation I want to be having right now."

"Would you rather lean on the emergency call button until you wake somebody up?" Will asked.

"Good point," Henry said weakly. He rubbed his face and looked up, though he still didn't tone down his defensive posture. "Um. So."

Awkward silence stretched between them. "How long?" Will asked, going for the oblique approach.

"Couple days," Henry admitted. "But it was just...I had it under control. Until a couple hours ago."

"Any idea what's changed?"

Henry shook his head. "I just...I feel...before, it was just like being a fourteen-year-old at a nude beach, you know what I'm saying? Now it's like...all these _things_ in my head, and I can't..." He broke off in an inarticulate grunt and looked away.

"And you can't, uh, take care of it?" Will asked.

Henry shook his head. "Already tried that. It helps a little, but it's not what I..."

 _Want. Need._ Will wondered which verb belonged in the pause, if Henry even knew himself. "What exactly were you planning to do until Magnus gets up?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Henry shrugged raggedly. "Real cold shower and a bunch of Ambien?"

"Not exactly a long-term solution," Will said.

"Well, this isn't gonna be a long-term problem," Henry growled. Not literally growled—despite his obvious state of agitation, Will didn't see any sign that Henry was about to change forms. Thank God for small favors.

"Looking pretty problematic until somebody wakes up and finds us," Will said mildly.

Henry looked up again, and his eyes narrowed. "Are you _suggesting_ something, dude?" he asked.

"I don't know what I'm suggesting," Will admitted, because it was three in the morning and he was balanced precariously between adrenaline and exhaustion. "Just...I can, you know, stick my fingers in my ears or something, if you need to take care of yourself."

Something in Henry's expression sharpened; it was the look he got when he was following a scent, when he was deliberately stepping back from what was strictly human. "And what if I need something else?"

Will found his mouth had gone dry, and that eye contact was no longer a question: he couldn't have looked away from Henry just then if he'd tried. He had to swallow a couple of times. "You do realize you're talking to a guy who almost had psychic sex with a giant spider," he said hesitantly. "Not a lot of boundaries here."

Henry bit his lip, right on the spot that was already chafed and swollen. "This isn't gonna be weird, is it?" he asked.

"Weird compared to what?" Will countered. He tried for humor. "Besides, I promise to still respect you in the morning."

Henry let out a small exhalation, barely qualifying as a laugh. Then he started crawling forward.

Will's heart leapt into his throat, and he very deliberately shifted so his legs were splayed out in front of him—not exactly an invitation, but accommodation. Henry knelt upright between his knees, and put one hand on the back of his head, tangling his fingers in Will's hair; he leaned forward, and for a moment Will was afraid Henry was going to kiss him. (And didn't that say more about his psychosexual hang-ups than all the psychic spiders in the world?)

Instead, Henry pushed his face against Will's neck, nosing at the curve of his jaw. Scenting him. Will tilted his head back and to the side, and Henry's lips skimmed down the line of his carotid, beard burn and a hint of teeth. That set something filthy humming down Will's spine, and he let out a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

Henry paused. "This okay?" he asked, voice barely recognizable.

"Could be better," Will shot back breathlessly.

He got a glimpse of a smile that was edging on—well, _wolfish--_ and then Henry pressed a sucking kiss into the skin above his collarbone, and Will definitely groaned into that one. He got his hands on Henry's shoulders, tracing the shifting muscles there, but Henry shrugged him off and pinned his wrists to the floor again, both of them. Will got the message. He leaned further back, and let Henry nuzzle a trail down his chest and stomach, occasionally mouthing warmly at him through his t-shirt. By the time he got down to the drawstring of Will's pajamas, Will was mostly hard, and didn't need much encouragement to lift his hips so Henry could pull his PJs down his thighs.

Henry let go of Will's wrists and held down his hips instead, pressing him down to the cold floor. He nuzzled into the crease of his thigh, almost cat-like, and it was Will's turn to growl a little and writhe against Henry's grip. "If you're just gonna sit there and _sniff_ me--"

Henry nipped him again, small and stinging on the crest of his hipbone, silencing him. He teased a little longer—wet, open-mouthed kisses on his belly and thighs, hot breath on his balls, until Will didn't think he could get any harder without possibly rupturing something. He was on the verge of begging, a little, close enough that he had to bite down on his lip, and that was when Henry finally caught the head of his dick between his lips, flicking his tongue at the slit and the fluid already leaking out. Will groaned out loud, as much at the sight of Henry's mouth on him as the feeling, so of course Henry did it again, and again: little flicks of a soft, hot tongue that sent shivers up and down Will's spine. One gasping _please_ slipped out before he could stop himself, and then another, and then Henry growled low and heavy and swallowed Will down to the root.

He didn't think he'd ever had a blowjob like this before: there was a moment when he could feel Henry fighting his gag reflex, sinful little flutters against the head of his cock, and then it was all heat and slickness and a blistering rhythm, accentuated by the odd graze of sharp teeth that could be so much sharper. Will couldn't frame coherent words, couldn't care less as he struggled against Henry's grip, desperate to thrust against him. Henry didn't give him an inch, though—Henry wasn't _giving_ anything—he was taking, taking everything Will had for him, every sound and every twitch and every ounce of come, and Will gave it all up, gladly.

He had kept his hands flat on the floor the whole time, long after Henry had let go of his wrists; as he came down from his orgasm, he tentatively reached out to touch the tousled crest of Henry's hair. Henry, who had been preoccupied with licking up the last traces of semen and saliva from Will's over-sensitive skin, didn't object this time; he may have even nudged his head into Will's palm a little. "Do you need--?" Will asked, not even sure what he was asking.

Henry sighed, cool against Will's hip. "I'm, uh, I'm good, actually."

"Oh." He hadn't even unbuckled his belt; his shorts were probably ruined.

"Was that okay?" Henry asked, watching him anxiously.

Will laughed. "Better than okay."

"Okay." The last of the tension slipped out of his shoulders, and Henry ran a gentle thumb over the red marks on Will's hips, marks that would probably bruise sooner rather than later. "Can I...?"

"What do you need?" Will asked automatically.

Henry crawled back up his body, and Will braced himself for a kiss on the mouth, but instead he found himself being urged over onto his side. They couldn't spoon up the usual way, since Will had about two inches on Henry, and the floor of the elevator was chilly and hard; but it was still kind of nice, to have Henry's breath warm on the back of his neck and his arms wrapped around him, loosely pinning Will's own to his chest. "This okay?" Henry asked, voice muffled a little by Will's clothes.

"Your arm's gonna go numb," Will pointed out, but Henry didn't respond, so presumably he was okay with that. Curled up with him in the silence of the elevator, Will suddenly found he had no problem whatsoever falling back to sleep.


End file.
